the trees are covered in ash from the fire in the sky
descending from atop the hillside where we rose to die
for in death we know we will rise out of our design
and into a new creation, molded by the hands of the Divine
but our latches have hindered the fire to ignite inside our hearts
cut off the path, we stray for the sinking shores of Glory
while blinded in our dishonest decisions in the midst of fury
our hearts were all underground
deep beyond the insides of the grey reminiscence of dismay
where embers and heartbeats are buried in hope of a new day
